


Pumpkin Guts

by Modest_K



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autumn, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Malfoy Manor, Pumpkins, SO MUCH FLUFF, Swearing, it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modest_K/pseuds/Modest_K
Summary: Hermione teaches Draco about an essential Muggle tradition.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Pumpkin Guts

“You’re going to catch your death out here, you know.”

Hermione didn’t bother turning around. She knew his voice, his scent- for Godric’s sake, the man gave off an _essence_ that was more familiar to her than her own reflection. 

She grinned a little wryly, leaning back against the wooden porch chair. “Wouldn’t that be something? Hermione Granger, killed by the _weather,_ after all the other rubbish I’ve survived.”

Draco chuckled as he dropped into the chair beside her. He stared across the garden she’d been watching. A small coat of snow covered the hedges, the flowers, and grass, and the fountains had frozen over. 

“Is it hard being inside?” He asked, frowning suddenly. “We could move, you know. When I asked if you wanted to move in with me, I didn’t mean it had to be _here._ ”

Hermione regarded him with mild shock. “You’d leave?”

“With you, yeah.”

She turned back to the snow with her eyebrows furrowed. “I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. But honestly, Draco, you never _stop_ surprising me.”

“I like to keep you on your toes, Granger,” he smirked slightly. “Predictability is boring, wouldn’t you say?”

She smiled at that. “I would.” 

It was curious. There was a time when Hermione Granger would have argued in favor of things like predictability, stability, practicality. 

How things change in just a short year. 

“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted, looking back to Draco with an earnest expression. “It’s not… the _easiest_ thing, being inside the manor again. But this place is a part of _you,_ and I don’t want to leave any part of you behind.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Any part of me? Because there’s a part of me I know we both appreciate that’s going to freeze off if we stay out here much longer.”

Hermione snorted and elbowed him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Well of course I love it,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m at _Malfoy Manor._ ”

Draco smiled at her. “Damn right you are. I didn’t know if you’d say yes, you know.”

She blinked at him for a moment before sitting up slightly. She stood enough to shuffle her chair closer to him and leaned against his shoulder. “I’m glad I said yes. I get to look at this gorgeous garden every day.”

He scoffed. “You can’t even see it right now, love. It’s just snow.”

“Still,” she looked up at him. “It’s nice here. Although I saw a bloody _rat_ the other day, which means we have some cleaning to do.”

He made a face. “Do I strike you as the type to reduce myself to manual labour?” 

Hermione laughed. “I think you would, if I asked you to.”

“I must be one whipped bastard, then,” Draco said in mocking disappointment, but he leaned his cheek against the top of her head and ran a hand over her curls. 

They sat together in peaceful silence for a moment longer, until the cold became too persistent. Hermione shuddered once, and Draco all but swept her up from her chair. “Do you mind?” She laughed as he hoisted her up. 

“Not at all,” he winked, carrying her into the house. “You’re bloody _freezing,_ Granger.”

She sniffed, the cold having made her eyes water a little and her nose run. “I _know_. I’m going to wake up ill tomorrow.”

He placed her down on a couch inside the sitting room before flicking his wand at the fireplace. Golden flame jumped to life, dancing in place and warming up the room. 

“Why’d you stay outside so long if you were so cold?” Draco questioned, joining her on the couch and pulling her close. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to help her warm up. 

She shrugged, before grabbing her own wand and casting a quick charm to repel the cold. The fire was taking a little long for her liking. “I like it out there,” she explained. “And honestly, I didn’t expect it to snow this _bloody_ much. It’s only October!”

Draco smirked a little. “Your language gets worse the more time you spend around me.”

“I know. Ginny likes it,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “She thinks it’s funny.”

“I think it’s kind of hot.”

Hermione flushed, but smiled all the same. It was funny how often he could still make her blush, despite having been together for almost a year. 

He pulled her a little closer and drew her own for a deep kiss. She breathed him in, completely and utterly content. She could scarcely believe this was the same place in which she’d once been tortured by a madwoman. 

After a few moments, they pulled away from each other enough to gather some air. “Hey, Draco?” Hermione asked suddenly. “Would you… would you be open to trying something with me?”

He shot her an amused smirk. “I’d be very open to lots of new things with you, Hermione,” he informed her suggestively. 

She shoved him lightly with a laugh. “Nothing _sordid,_ you prat.”

He sniggered. “Fine, fine. What is it then?”

She hesitated. “It’s something… Muggle-ish.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly not having expected such a turn. Hermione held her breath, uncertain of what to expect. They’d made a _lot_ of progress since their run-in a year back, when he’d found her in the midst of her breakup with Ron on a wild path of self-discovery. Draco had seemed as lost as she’d felt when they bumped into each other in a bookstore. 

Still, even with their progress, she reflexively _worried_ every time the concept of Muggles and blood status came up, though she knew he’d worked through the prejudices his parents had forced into him throughout his life. 

“Let’s do it,” Draco suddenly said, in such a simple and easy manner that Hermione couldn’t help staring. His lips turned up into a wry grin. “Come on, love, some credit please.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione frowned. For all her push for him to renounce his own prejudices, she sure had a hard time letting go of her own.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “One day at a time. We’ll get there.”

“I know,” she sighed. 

“Well, stop pouting then,” he commanded. “What Muggle thing are you having me try? If it’s cooking related, we’re fucked. I got second-degree burns last time.”

Hermione giggled. “No, I learned my lesson about trying to teach you to cook. Actually, I was thinking it’d be fun to carve pumpkins.”

He looked at her strangely. “Like… jack-o’-lanterns? We have to do that the Muggle way?”

She nodded seriously. “It’s something I used to do with my parents, but we haven’t since I was young. I just thought it might be fun. Something to make this place feel a little more… homey, for me.”

His face softened at that. “Well… I can’t promise I won’t cut my hand off by mistake if you expect me to use a knife, but I’m sure you’ll heal me before I bleed out.”

“No promises,” she smiled cheekily.

He snorted, before standing and pulling her off the couch. “Thanks, Granger.”

Hermione led him to the kitchen, where she’d had a couple pumpkins waiting. “I had a feeling you’d say yes, despite my doubts,” she explained when he shot her a questioning look. 

“When did you even set this up?” he asked in amusement. The pumpkins were placed over the counter, on either side of a large bowl, with knives and carving supplied strewn out around them.

“This morning,” she shrugged. “You sleep like the dead.”

“You wear me out,” he winked, making her laugh. 

Hermione walked him through the basics, helping him cut the top of the pumpkin off to start scooping the insides and seeds out and into the bowl. 

“I’ll roast the seeds later,” she informed him. “They taste amazing.”

Draco was eyeing the pumpkin skeptically. “You’re expecting me to stick my hands in that gunk? That’s fucking nasty, love.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pansy,” she said before reaching into her own pumpkin and pulling out a handful of pumpkin guts. She dropped them into the bowl before sending Draco a challenging smirk. “Scared of a pumpkin, Malfoy?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression changing to reflect the arrogant determination she was used to seeing on him. “I’m going to carve the best fucking pumpkin you’ve ever _seen,_ Granger,” he promised, rolling up his sleeves.

She giggled. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The two set to work, gutting their pumpkins, bantering lightly. Hermione occasionally snuck glances up at Draco’s face, wondering if he was really enjoying himself, and was pleased to find him smiling a small, quiet sort of smile. 

When it came time to carve the actual designs, Hermione opted for a classic face with triangular eyes. She may have given herself over to passion and expression within the last year, but her eye for perfectionism had never vanished. She planned and carved her pumpkin meticulously, wanting to create a perfectly symmetrical face. 

Draco, meanwhile, had turned his pumpkin away from her view. “Don’t look until I’m done,” he requested. “Also, don’t get mad.”

“Don’t get _mad?”_ She questioned. “What are you carving over there?”

He smiled conspiratorially. “You’ll see.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but allowed him to carry on in private. She carved away at her own pumpkin, knocking out the wide grin and stepping back to survey her work. 

Her jack-o’-lantern, of course, was perfect. Two triangular eyes, a similarly shaped nose, and a wide, toothy grin. She couldn’t wait to see it lit up. “Are you quite done yet?” She asked Draco, who’d been quiet for several minutes. 

He looked like he was trying desperately not to laugh. “Nearly. One second.” He pushed out a piece near the top of his pumpkin before running a hand over the face to clean it all up. “Alright,” he snorted. “I’m done.”

Draco turned his pumpkin around, and Hermione gasped. 

The pumpkin was frowning, with crooked teeth. The nose was massive, comically so. Above the nose, rather than eyes, was a set of carved glasses, under which he’d added what looked like a small, shedded tear. And in the corner, above the glasses, was a tiny lightning bolt. 

Draco had carved a caricature of Harry Potter. 

He studied Hermione’s face nervously, as if waiting to see if she’d yell at him for making fun of his friend. 

A moment later, she burst out laughing. “Oh my _Merlin,_ ” she managed through her giggles. “You’re _horrible!”_ But the accusation came with more laughter, and Draco sighed in relief before laughing along with her. 

Hermione reached into the bowl and threw a piece of pumpkin innards onto his shirt. Draco paused, raising an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Are you sure you want to start this?’ In response, she simply grinned at him challengingly. 

Draco reached into the bowl with lightning speed and scooped out a handful of the guts, chucking them at Hermione, who failed to duck in time. She felt the slimy orange pieces drip down her face and her jaw dropped. “You _arse._ ”

He chuckled and pulled her close to him, kissing her briefly. “You started it.” He kissed her again, not noticing her reach to her left for another handful of guts. Once he pulled back, she smeared them into his face. 

“I did start it,” she agreed, laughing. “I’ll finish it, too.”

Their pumpkin gut war continued into the afternoon, the two throwing seeds and innards at each other, laughing in a giddy haze. 

Hermione had never felt more at home. 

* * *

**A/N: Just a little piece of Halloween themed fluff for you all. Hope you enjoyed :)**


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